I sent G to his room for a nap the other afternoon. I was on the phone so it was a while before I realized it was very quiet. So I crept up the stairs to see if he had fallen asleep. I peeked in his door and saw him crouched over one of his books on his floor.
A library book.
In itty, bitty, teeny, tiny pieces.
I was so angry and yet I was having a hard time not laughing.
Seriously? Tiny pieces?! Who does that to a book? We always talk about how we have to be gentle with books and we treat them nicely and respectfully or they have to go up high in the closet until he is older. Apparently it didn't sink in.
ps. blogger is being a booger and REFUSES to post this properly but since its been two weeks since I posted I figured I better get something out there before the natives get restless. So pretty it is not, but hopefully its mildly entertaining.